


And I saw sparks

by OtterAndTerrier



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Non-Sexual, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Shoulder rubs, Slow Dancing, all the tropes!, caring for each other while ill, cuddling in a blanket fort, finding the other wearing their clothes, taking a bath together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13713498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterAndTerrier/pseuds/OtterAndTerrier
Summary: Non-sexual acts of intimacy: a series of trope-based vignettes. (Ron/Hermione version)





	1. Lending

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** In February 2017 I wrote a series of short fics for "OTP's Day" based on a list of non-sexual acts of intimacy. I'm going to be reposting them here now regularly. Please remember to **leave a comment** if you liked it and to leave quietly if you didn't :)
> 
> **Prompt:** Finding the other wearing their clothes [set in the summer before Goblet of Fire]

The kitchen at the Burrow could comfortably sit eight people. Nine, if one of them didn’t mind being squished against the cupboard. Even though there were, in fact, nine Weasleys, fitting around the worn wooden table had rarely been an issue: by the time Ron and Ginny had been born, Bill and Charlie were only a couple of years short of going off to Hogwarts and, during the holidays, the children were still too small to take up any significant space. Later on, the rest of the Weasley brood spent most of their time at school while the older brothers graduated and moved out, pursuing careers abroad, and when they all managed to get together at their childhood home, they endured the discomfort of a too small table as best as they could (which didn’t necessarily mean gracefully).

That summer, both Bill and Charlie had managed to take days off work in time to go to the Quidditch World Cup final and spend some leisure time with their family. Ron was fine with that—he loved both of his older brothers, probably because they had never got under his skin the way the rest of his siblings had—but he had invited his two best friends to stay over for the rest of the holidays as well. Which meant that, once they were all there, they would have to squeeze in if they didn’t want to fall out of a window.

His mother had written to Harry’s aunt and uncle for permission to pick up their nephew the following day, but Hermione had arrived that afternoon, and the weather was so fine Mrs Weasley had decided they would be eating outside, which had relieved some of Ron’s anxiety. This was the first time Hermione visited his house. He didn’t want her to feel like he had invited her somewhere she would be uncomfortable. Like Harry had been two summers ago, she didn’t seem put off by any aspects of the Burrow, though, but marvelled at being in a fully magical household, and glad to be there.

Ron was glad that she was there, too. Even after the tension that had existed between them during the previous school year, he appreciated Hermione as a friend, and it wasn’t because he knew he could count on her (most of the time) to revise his homework. If you asked him, he couldn’t say  _ what _ was it that he liked of being friends with her. They fought a lot, not always over important things. When he told a very obvious (generally bordering on dirty) joke, she wrinkled up her nose. She always nagged him about being tidy with his notes and  _ stop making your writing bigger, Ron, the teachers aren’t idiots _ .

But he reckoned she was also… she didn’t  _ always  _ disagree with him. And she could be funny too, in a dry, sarcastic way that Ron shared whenever he wasn’t trying to be funny. She kept helping him and Harry, even though she’d said many times that she wouldn’t, so she obviously cared about them. He couldn’t say why, but Hermione was good company, and he cared about her, too.

And, sometimes, he thought about the way she had hugged him, crying, when she’d told him she was really sorry about Crookshanks eating Scabbers (which hadn’t turned out to be true, but they didn’t know that at the time).

The only women that had ever hugged him belonged to his extended family, so Ron reckoned that was why he’d found it so—

Disconcerting. Unexpected. Flustering.

That was all it was, and that was why he kept having flashes of that memory that he had to mentally bat away like flies as he listened to Hermione talking about one thing or another, before she realised there was something fundamentally wrong with him.

So, there they were that evening, sitting side by side at one of the tables they had set up in the yard, not so close that their elbows touched while they ate, but close enough that he noticed goosebumps on said elbows as she reached for the salad bowl.

‘Hermione, are you cold?’ he asked. She looked up, seeming surprised, and ran her hands over her bare arms.

‘It’s a bit chilly, that’s all.’

‘D’you want me to fetch you a cloak or something?’ he offered, feeling like it was the right thing to do.

‘No, it’s fine,’ Hermione said, giving him a small smile.

Ron nodded and grabbed his fork again, but before he could keep eating, he felt a jab on his ribs.

‘What’s your problem?’ he hissed at Ginny, sitting at his other side. His younger sister was unfazed at his glare.

‘Offer her your jacket, you tosser,’ she hissed back, looking pointedly at the Muggle garment that Ron had tied around his waist.

Ron scowled at her, then at the jacket, considering it. Hermione said she was fine. Maybe she’d said it so Ron wouldn’t have to get up, and she was actually cold, but would she  _ want _ to wear his baggy, worn-out, probably dirty jacket that he was presently sitting on? 

Ginny elbowed him again two more times—she wasn’t really going to leave him alone, was she? He untied the jacket from around his waist, shooting daggers at his sister—Hermione would be embarrassed, she would either politely refuse, or she would say yes to avoid being rude, but feeling weird about it—either way, Ron was going to kill Ginny.

He had to tap her shoulder to catch Hermione’s attention.

‘Er… do you want this?’ he asked in a low voice, holding his jacket out for her, but keeping it below tabletop level, almost as if he was offering her a flask of Firewhiskey.

Again, Hermione looked almost startled. He thought she was blushing, too, but he couldn’t be sure in the dimming light of the yard.

‘That’d be—you’re not using it?’ Ron shook his head. ‘Yes—thank you, Ron,’ Hermione said, smiling brightly at him and accepting the jacket.

As she put it on, the long sleeves engulfing her small hands, Ron felt himself turning red in the twilight, and decided that this, too, was disconcerting and flustering, and he would avoid lending her any clothing of his in the future.


	2. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Sharing a bed [in The Burrow just before picking up Harry from the Dursleys, DH]

It had been an agitated day at the Burrow, with over a dozen people coming and going and last minute preparations being made; it had even put a temporary halt to the wedding preparations that had been going on non-stop for the past months. Thus, nobody had noticed Hermione sneaking up to Ron’s room in the hour before they were scheduled to leave for Little Whinging.

Even though they weren’t strangers to spending time together on their own, Ron was still surprised when she showed up, imagining she’d be nervously pacing up and down the house instead, reciting spells and everything that could go wrong with the plan to herself. And if he was honest to himself, which he’d been trying to be, he was amazed at the fact that she still wanted to spend that much time alone with him, after the mess that had been last year. Things were going more than well between them, actually. He wasn’t taking it for granted, but he tried to make the most of it.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked when he opened the door.

Ron shrugged. ‘Just waiting.’ In truth, he’d been trying to distract himself from thinking about what they were about to do by replaying in his mind some of his latest interactions with Hermione that he thought she had seemed pleased about.

‘Can I wait in here, too? It’s a bit crazy down there.’

Ron moved to let her in and dropped back on his bed. Hermione followed him inside. Instead of sitting on Harry’s vacant camp bed, she settled for the foot of Ron’s, folding her legs under her (but careful not to put her shoes on top of the covers—as if that mattered to Ron).

He waited for her to say something: about how they couldn’t be sure their group hadn’t been infiltrated; about how Harry would most definitely put up a fight when they told him the plan; about how uneasy it made her to fly a Thestral. But she simply sat there, her eyes staring into space, as if being there with Ron, in silence, was enough.

‘Hey,’ Ron said, bumping his foot against her side. He cursed himself for turning bright red when he realised he’d touched her hip, but that seemed to have got lost for Hermione, who just looked up questioningly at him. ‘It’s gonna be fine, you know.’

They were empty words, but he meant them. Hermione nodded and her posture relaxed slightly.

‘Yeah,’ she said, giving him a small smile. ‘Thanks, Ron.’


	3. Surprising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/etc. [Bill and Fleur's wedding day - DH]

Hermione smoothed down the skirt of her dress, hanging from Ginny’s wardrobe, for one last time before wrapping her dressing gown tighter around her and grabbing a small bag with her shampoo, conditioner and other items. Not one to leave things at chance, Mrs. Weasley had organized everything down to the order in which each person would be taking a shower that morning: Fleur had been first, followed by Bill, and the men went next so that they wouldn’t get in the way later on. It was Hermione’s turn to shower now; afterwards, she would have fifteen extra minutes to do her hair and make-up before handing the bathroom over to the next person in line.

Hermione appreciated Mrs. Weasley’s planning. This was supposed to be a wonderful day for the family and a last opportunity for leisure and relax for Harry, Ron and her in Merlin knew how long. Having a schedule to go by and someone who would ensure it was respected helped reduce Hermione’s stress levels—which wasn’t to say she was entirely stress-free. Before putting on her dress, she would have to check her handbag just in case she needed to sneak anything else from Ron and Harry’s trunks. She had managed to hide her fears from everyone else so far—she really didn’t want to ruin this day with fear-mongering—but she thought it was too much of a large gathering to be kept secret. She couldn’t tell Harry and Ron, so she had to be prepared for the three of them, just in case worst came to worst.

She rounded the corner to the bathroom at a brisk pace so as not to waste precious time, and bounced back as she collided into Ron. They looked up at the same time and found the other: Ron was freshly showered, his hair already drying, and wearing an elegant set of dark blue dress robes. He looked more handsome and grown-up than Hermione had ever seen him, and she felt self-conscious as she stood there with her bed hair and her pyjama trousers coming out of her dressing gown.

‘Is the bathroom free?’ she asked, just to break the silence—she already knew it was supposed to be.

Ron looked over his shoulder, clueless. ‘Uh, yeah, I think?’

Hermione nodded. He was standing in her way, so she couldn’t continue to her destination until he moved, but the sudden appearance of him looking like  _ that _ had left her a little flustered.

‘Are those the dress robes Fred and George got you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘They’re nice. I mean—it’s—um, it’s a good colour,’ she spluttered. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘I guess. As long as they were new, I didn’t care much for what colour they were,’ Ron said, and she could see the moment he regretted his words when his ears turned red. Hermione would have wanted to tell him it wouldn’t have mattered to her if he’d showed up in his second-hand robes from fourth year, but she knew it would have mattered to  _ him _ . ‘Unless they were maroon!’

Hermione laughed along with him feebly. Her eyes fell to the collar of his robes, which were upturned on one side.

‘Here, let me...’ she said. Tucking her vanity case under one arm, she walked up to Ron and reached out to fix his collar. Her eyes were on the work at hand, but she felt Ron stiffen at the unexpected proximity.

Something had changed between them after last year. They were friends again and, as far as friendship went, it was all back to normal. But underneath it, there was an undercurrent of something else that had already been there before Lavender for a whole year, and that now was only getting stronger. 

‘There,’ Hermione said, stepping back.

Ron’s whole face was flushed now as he looked at her. There was nervousness there, but it was clear to Hermione now—it wasn’t because she scared him, or because he didn’t want anything to do with her and didn’t know how to tell her. It was because he wanted to be this close, too, closer even, but neither of them wanted to risk a misstep that would set them years back.

‘Thanks,’ Ron mumbled. Suddenly remembering that she had a schedule to stick to, Hermione jumped.

‘I have to go—your mum—see you!’ she managed to say, rushing past him without looking back.

They would have the rest of the day to be awkward around each other... and, hopefully, once she had her dress, hair and make-up on, she would be able to surprise Ron, too.


	4. Borrowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Finding the other wearing their clothes [DH, tent-stay era]
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been reading so far!! This prompt was requested twice, but as the setting was different I decided to do it anyway. Sequel to/references "Lending".

In the wan light inside the tent, Hermione didn’t see much of the jacket Ron was wearing as he hunched over the table, examining his Deluminator for the thousandth time, except that it fit too tight across his shoulders. She moved to stand in front of him and held up her wand so that its light would join the one cast by the candles on the table and confirmed her suspicions when her eyes fell on the too-short cuffs.

‘Ron, why are you wearing that?’

‘What?’ Ron looked up at her in confusion, then down at his jacket. ‘Oh. You packed an old jacket, too. It’s a bit small.’

‘Of course it is; that jacket is mine.’

Ron frowned and looked down at himself again. ‘No, it’s not.’

‘Well—it  _ was _ yours,’ Hermione amended. ‘But I suppose you haven’t worn it since you were fifteen!’

‘Then why’d you bring it?’ Ron sounded a little defensive, and then frowned, thinking. ‘Wait—you said it was yours? Is it mine or yours?’

Hermione felt herself blush and lowered her wand to hide it. It hadn’t been a conscious decision at the time to bring that particular garment, but she really should have considered the possibility of this happening.

‘Ginny gave it to me before Harry’s birthday dinner… it was chilly outside and I was having trouble finding my clothes inside the bag, so she me borrow this. It was in her room, but I recognized it because—well, I don’t know if you remember, but you’d already let me borrow it once, the summer before fourth year?’

‘Yeah,’ Ron said slowly, making Hermione believe he didn’t really remember.

‘When I tried to give it back, Ginny told me to keep it,’ Hermione explained. ‘She said that she hardly wore it because it didn’t fit her as well as it did me. I didn’t mean to bring it—I was putting my clothes back into the bag and I realised I’d misplaced the jacket…’

Hermione trailed off awkwardly, waiting. She hadn’t used the jacket again since they had left the Burrow. It no longer smelled of Ron, but wearing it had brought back memories of that summer, right before the Quidditch World Cup, when her usually infuriating best friend had noticed she was cold and offered his own jacket, and her fourteen year old self had felt the first stirrings of a crush she would spend a whole year questioning and denying to herself.

Ron shrugged off the jacket with some difficulty, wincing as he tried to extract his injured arm.

‘It probably fits you better than fits me, too,’ he said, holding it out to her. ‘Keep it if—if you want to.’

They didn’t have much going on at the time: their quest had taken a turn for the worse since leaving Grimmauld Place, even if they now had the locket; the mood was tense most of the time; the implicit understanding between Ron and her that had begun after Lavender seemed broken at times. But this was like a peace offering, a promise that things would be better. Hermione took the proffered jacket and clutched it against her chest, murmuring a ‘Thanks.’

She saw Ron smiling slightly to himself as he turned back to the Deluminator.


	5. Soothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Shoulder rubs [post-DH]
> 
> We're entering established relationship territory with this one!

When Ron came down for breakfast, Hermione was pacing round the kitchen and his mother was very politely trying to ignore her; upon seeing Ron, she seized the chance to occupy herself by making more eggs and sausages, even though there was a full plate already on the table.

Ron wasn’t really sure what Hermione was doing in his house that early. She had come back from her last year at Hogwarts two weeks ago, and she was splitting her time between her childhood home and the Burrow, like she had done the previous summer. It was killing her, being on holidays without having anything lined up for the future, when Ron and Harry were on their way to becoming fully-trained Aurors and Ginny was already trying out for the reserves of several Quidditch teams, but she was refusing to look into any job offers until she had her N.E.W.T. results—

Ron blinked. _Right_. That was what she was doing here.

‘Maybe I should have stayed home… yes, I should have stayed home!’ Hermione was saying anxiously, to no one in particular, staring out of the window. She turned around to leave so fast that she jumped backwards in surprise when she caught sight of Ron. ‘There you are!’

Ron glanced over his shoulder, just in case. ‘Yeah… here I am. What are _you_ doing here?’

His girlfriend wrung her hands. ‘I—I don’t know, I thought… maybe they would send my owl here, with Ginny’s, but—it was a ridiculous thought, of course, there hasn’t been any owls yet, but I’m _sure_ they’ll send mine home. I don’t know what I was thinking! Now it’ll be there, and I’m here, and—Merlin, what if my parents open it first? No—my parents are at work! What if they left no windows open, what will the owl do? It can’t know I’m _here_ —’

‘Woah, Hermione! Calm down, will you? You’re going to hyperventilate,’ Ron said, walking up to her. His mother turned away from the stove to set full plates on the table and gave him an empathic look over Hermione’s shoulder before going out into the yard.

‘But—’

‘No _buts_ ,’ Ron said firmly, placing both hands on her shoulders and rubbing them soothingly. ‘I know it’s important, but it’s gonna be fine. Since you’re already here, why don’t we wait to see if they send your owl here? And if only Ginny’s comes, we’ll go back to your place for lunch. That owl isn’t going to fly back to Hogwarts without delivering its letter, I promise.’

Hermione held his gaze, looking doubtful, and at last she nodded. ‘You’re right. We’ll wait here.’

Ron massaged her shoulders for another couple of seconds before releasing her to sit down at the table and get some of those wonderful-smelling sausages.

‘But maybe we should go if they’re not here in another hour,’ Hermione added, ‘just in case mine got there first!’


	6. Improving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Slow dancing + Forehead or cheek kisses [post-DH]
> 
> Another parallel to a book moment, because they deserved a proper dance.

‘Come and dance?’

After he spoke the words, Ron winced. He’d tried to do better than last time, he really had. He reckoned that at least he didn’t sound snappish this time, but he’d mentally rehearsed a couple of lines he could use for an invitation to get up and dance, which were more suitable to the occasion—romantic, even, which was what he was going for with the whole gesture. But, apparently, the two and a half years between the last wedding he and Hermione had attended—Bill and Fleur’s—and the one they were presently at—Percy and Audrey’s—hadn’t made him any less of a bumbling idiot. Nor had the fact that he was asking Hermione, his girlfriend, to dance with him, instead of Hermione, his friend he had a quite possibly unrequited crush on.

It was because it  _ was _ requited, then and now, that Hermione had said yes to his offer both times despite what he thought was his inherent lack of finesse.

He was trying to make up for the last time, though. He had definitely made progress since the Yule Ball, when he hadn’t even known he wanted to dance with her—not in time to ask her, anyway—and since Slughorn’s party, when he’d botched his chance yet again. Dancing with her at Fleur and Bill’s wedding had been… more than he’d dared to hope for at the time. It had been nice, but they’d still been too afraid, too unsure to really enjoy it the way they should have. Not to mention that they had been robbed of any more dancing that night by the arrival of the Death Eater party.

They had more treasured moments since then, after the war—moments that weren’t tainted with fear and lost chances—but Ron had always hoped to get another dance. 

The first song was a romantic ballad: slow and mellow and just what they both wanted. Ron’s nervousness melted away as soon as they set foot on the dance floor, hands clasped, and he turned to meet Hermione’s bright smile.

Without a word, one of his hands slid around her waist and gently pulled her closer, while his other one kept holding hers, a little higher now. Hermione’s free hand smoothed the fabric of his dress robes before resting on his shoulder.

‘For a moment there I thought you were nervous about asking me to dance,’ Hermione teased him as they started swaying to the music.

Ron shrugged. ‘Maybe I was.’

‘Seriously? What about?’

‘Making a tit of myself. Which I think I did, anyway.’

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, perplexed.

‘I dunno, I—that wasn’t a very smooth way to ask you, was it?’

‘What matters is that you did. I don’t care how.’ She tapped a finger against his shoulder. ‘Don’t be nervous. You’re getting good at this.’

Ron raised an eyebrow in incredulity and Hermione laughed. She wrapped her arm around his neck as best as she could (her heels gave her some extra height, but not enough to match Ron’s) and she pulled herself closer to him, laying her head on his chest. ‘Don’t be so surprised. You are. We are.’

He grinned and planted a kiss on top of her head, before resting his cheek there and wrapping his arm more tightly around Hermione’s back. If this was “getting good”, he liked where they were going.


	7. Relaxing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Taking a bath together [post-DH / Ron is stressed from an Auror case and Hermione decides only she can cheer him up]
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! Ron is being spoiled in this one.

‘That’s it,’ Hermione announced, reappearing into the kitchen. It was just in time to see Ron opening the cupboard door and sneaking a hand inside for the tenth time that evening. He looked up, a little startled, already holding a fresh scone. Hermione resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation. He was really lucky his weight gain wasn’t proportional to how much food he put into his mouth.

‘Come with me, Ron,’ she said firmly from the doorway. Ron frowned, giving her an apprehensive look akin to the one she got from Crookshanks whenever she announced a visit to the vet.

‘Come… where?’

Hermione waved a hand at herself.

‘Well, I’m not exactly dressed for going outside, am I, and it’s not a really big flat, so I think you can trust me.’ She held out a hand and gestured for him to follow her.

‘It’s not that I don’t trust you…’ Ron began uncertainly, but was cut short when Hermione’s encouraging expression hardened with a measure of unspoken threat. ‘All right, all right, coming!’

He had been part of many missions after passing his fast-track Auror training after the war, nearly three years ago, but just the previous week he had been assigned his first leading role in one—and without Harry. At first, he had been pleased, proud of himself. It was a huge vote of confidence that was the result of Ron’s performance so far, and it could mean a leap forward in his career. Both Hermione and Harry had been proud of him, too, even more than they already were. Soon enough, however, Ron’s mood had evolved into stress and lack of conviction in his own capabilities as a leader. Whenever he was home, he wandered from one side to the other of his and Hermione’s flat, either going over details of the mission in a low mutter or silently throwing Hermione a helpless, despondent look. And eating everything he could get his hands on.

In the beginning, Hermione had tried to soothe his doubts by reminding him of everything he had accomplished on his own up to this point. When that didn’t work, she’d let him be and tuned him out, since none of her assurances seemed to get through to him. Eventually, he would come around, she’d told herself. By this point, though, she was not only concerned about him, but annoyed and unable to get any work done, and so she decided to try a different tactic.

She stopped in front of the closed bathroom door and crossed her arms over her chest as Ron regarded her with curiosity.

‘Ron, I understand that you’re nervous about this case, even though—I assure you—you’re more than capable and ready to do it.’ Hermione paused and took a breath. ‘But you’re honestly driving me up a wall. So I think we both need to take a break.’

She almost regretted the brief look of panic in Ron’s face that her choice of words had caused, although she knew they would both laugh about it later. In any case, it changed as soon as she opened the door and Ron’s eyes took in the scene in front of him: their bath was filled with soapy water, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of a couple of candles placed on floating glass jars, an inviting scent wafting out into the corridor. Hermione had also put a CD of calming sounds on her Muggle music player.

‘A break,’ Ron repeated, eyes like saucers. Hermione nodded and walked into the room, wasting no time in undressing. Five seconds later, he caught up and followed her into the bath.

Even for Hermione, sinking into the deliciously hot, perfumed water felt like entering a realm of existence where everything was peaceful, gentle and unencumbered by the hardships of the physical world. When the intensity of that first moment faded, she half-opened one eye to check on Ron, sat opposite her, remembering this had been originally on his behalf.

His face was relaxed in a blissful expression, head tilted back against the rim of the bath. Hermione nudged his knee with her toe and smiled lazily at him when he finally opened his eyes.

‘So, how is this working out?’

‘Wonderfully,’ Ron drawled, relaxing further down into the bath and rubbing his feet lightly against Hermione’s sides.

For now, then, she could call this mission accomplished.


	8. Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Cuddling in a blanket fort [post-DH]
> 
> Another tiny but cute vignette!

‘Will you admit it now?’

‘Admit what?’ Hermione said, distracted as she wrapped a blanket over Victoire’s small sleeping form.

‘That blanket forts are fun.’

Hermione pursed her lips to hide a smile, still fussing over Victoire. It was the first time they babysat Ron’s two-year-old niece on their own, but the little girl was so sweet-tempered and affectionate, and she got along so well with Ron and Hermione that they had both agreed to look after her when Bill and Fleur had called in for volunteers. Most of Hermione’s experience with babies and toddlers, she had acquired only in the past three years with Teddy Lupin and Victoire, since she had mostly grown up around older people. While she was full of pragmatic knowledge about children, she tended to defer to Ron as far as fun and games went. When he had suggested making a blanket fort to play, Hermione had been a little sceptical about the idea.

It turned out that Victoire loved it.

‘I suppose they are,’ she admitted, leaning back. Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

‘Even for adults?’ Ron asked teasingly.

Hermione tilted her chin up to him. ‘A little, yes.’ She looked around at the makeshift tent of blankets he had draped over chairs and the back of the sofa, completely foregoing magic. ‘I didn’t know you had this skill.’

Ron shrugged. ‘I’m a man of many talents.’

Chuckling quietly, Hermione reached up to kiss him and cuddled up to him. She would be persuading him to use this particular talent again very soon, just for the two of them.

Blanket forts were definitely fun.


	9. Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** One falling asleep with their head in the other's lap [post-DH]
> 
> Along with the prompt above, my requester asked for Ron and Hermione "as a young (maybe married) couple, perhaps when they're both at home after work and get to hopeful talking about life together and the future", and I was happy to provide!

It had been a long week. Hermione had now been married for sixteen days, having spent the last eight enjoying the Mediterranean coast with her husband. As soon as she had gone back to work, though, any relaxation had been drained out of her as a difficult case had gripped her Department in her absence, demanding her to stay after hours at her office and to bring mountains of work to go over before bedtime.

Friday night, she had come home to a warm meal and wine already waiting for her, and after dinner Ron had coaxed her into taking the night off. They had barely seen each other during the past days—it hadn’t been the first week of marriage they would have wanted. Hermione was exhausted, moody, and sleep-deprived. As much as she would have wanted to fling herself back to her work, she also knew she’d be no good if she just kept trudging forward. Being alongside Ron for so long had taught her that taking a break sometimes was not only nice, but necessary, so she had gratefully agreed and was now lying back on the sofa, her head on a cushion in Ron’s lap, her eyes closed as she listened to Ron telling her a story about his day.

She felt Ron’s fingers threading gently through her hair, working through the tangles.

‘Hermione?’ he asked suddenly.

She only managed to answer with a ‘Hmm?’, feeling sleepy and content for the first time in days.

‘We’ve been married for two weeks,’ Ron said, and without opening her eyes Hermione felt the smile on his face through his words.

‘I know. Two days ago, actually. You told me “happy two week anniversary” and all, remember?’

‘Yeah, I know. I just—isn’t it weird? In a good way,’ he hurried to add.

She smiled. ‘It is. I can’t believe all the months we spent planning the wedding, and now it’s been two weeks… and a week since our honeymoon.’

Hermione sighed and opened her eyes to look back at him. ‘I wish we could go back.’

Ron’s arms wrapped loosely over her chest. ‘We can. Things are a bit rough right now, ‘cos of the wedding, and the honeymoon, and the house… But then we can start saving for that sort of thing, can’t we? We’ll have many holidays to plan… go wherever you wanna take me.’

Hermione’s eyelids drooped as he continued to massage her scalp, Ron’s gravelly voice acting like a balm.

‘That sounds nice,’ she whispered. ‘I’m really glad I married someone so smart.’

Before drifting off, she heard him chuckle and say, ‘Yeah. Me too.’


	10. Washing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Having their hair washed by the other [post-DH]
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! Have a... mostly non-sexual shower (they are trying).

Hermione’s voice resounded in the small bathroom, exasperated. ‘Ron, I really need you to bend lower!’

‘What more do you want, woman, I’m getting a stiff neck!’ he protested, rising to his full height and rubbing the back of his neck in demonstration. Hermione braced soapy hands on her hips as they stood under the spray of the shower.

‘Well, how do you expect me to wash your hair if I can’t reach it? Should I get a ladder?’

‘Of course not. A stool would do—ow, fine!’ he said when Hermione smacked him lightly on a shoulder, and he obediently bowed his head again. ‘Hurry up, this is making me dizzy.’

Hermione’s hands went to his head again, massaging his scalp and disentangling the strands of slick, dark red hair between her fingers.

‘You know, you don’t get to complain,’ Ron’s voice floated up to her, muffled under the pitter-patter of the shower. ‘I spent an hour washing  _ your _ hair—’

‘Getting my hair tangled up, you mean.’

‘Oi, I used conditioner later and it was fine. But you kept squirming like a wounded Kneazle—’

‘Because it hurt!’

‘I said I was sorry!’

‘Hm. I have to admit, at least you’re not moving that much.’

‘That’s ‘cos I’m staring at your tits.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Ron!’ Hermione admonished, leaning back slightly, though she laughed as he reached his arms out to wrap them around her waist and pull her closer again. ‘You’re impossible. We’re never going to get out of here if you keep distracting me.’

‘Oh,  _ I’m _ distracting you? I’m not the one shoving her tits on my face!’ He quickly dropped a kiss on one breast and looked up, grinning and wagging his eyebrows. ‘You keep that up and I guarantee you we’ll never leave this shower.’

Giving him a mock-stern look, Hermione stood on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair and Ron shook his head wildly like a soaked puppy, making her laugh again.

Taking a “non-sexual shower” together wasn’t as romantic as that women’s magazine had made it out to be… but Hermione had to admit, it had its fun.


	11. Supporting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Caring for each other while ill [post-DH]
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to update! I was on vacation and then I came back and was sad about not being on vacation anymore :P In addition to the prompt, the requester asked for "Ron has to take care of a very sick Hermione and a new born", and I was happy to provide. I added a little something at the end that was not in the original Tumblr version. Enjoy!

‘Wait, Ron! The hand sanitizer!’ Hermione’s raspy voice called after him before he’d managed to take two steps.

‘Right,’ Ron said under his breath, turning around and looking at the bottle on the night table. He was levitating an assortment of tea cups and plates with half-eaten toast with one hand, and carrying a wastepaper basket filled to the top with crumpled tissues with the other. He considered grasping the sanitizer between his teeth, until he remembered that the Bubble-Head Charm around his head was supposed to keep things out. Bending a little over the table, he caught the small bottle with his pinky and stood up again. Hermione gave him a funny look before letting out an explosive sneeze. She covered her face with one hand while the other swept the bed for a new tissue.

‘Don’t forget to change your clothes before holding Rose,’ she said amidst sniffing. ‘But—not until I get some milk out and you come get the bottle! Otherwise you’ll have to change again—’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ron told her patiently, ‘I’ll just go check on her while you get that bottle ready, all right?’

Hermione nodded, and Ron left their bedroom. He hurried to dispose of the rubbish and set the dishes to wash themselves before rushing to the bathroom to thoroughly wash his hands and apply sanitizer, and back to the baby’s room. She was still asleep, so he leaned back against the wall and let out a deep, quiet sigh. 

This wasn’t how he’d expected to pass his first week as a father. Exhausted, full of doubts and taking care of everything he could, sure. But only days after Rose had been born—their healthy, perfect baby, finally home with them—Hermione had caught a cold. They had planned to keep Rose’s bassinet in their room for some time, but it had become necessary to separate Hermione from the newborn. Ron was the link between mother and baby, sleeping on a cot in Rose’s room, feeding her with the bottles Hermione provided, and making sure to give all the care his baby girl required… while also tending a sick Hermione and hating every second she had to spend away from her daughter. That was the part Ron regretted the most: not that he was taking care of his sick wife and a tiny baby all by himself (although his family helped, bringing them food and stopping by to clean or offering to run errands), not the exhaustion, not the practically sleepless nights he was having, but the fact that  _ his _ was not the worst first week as a parent. At least he got to see Rose, hold her close, rock her to sleep. Hermione had only had a few days with her, and then she’d had to give her up, lest Rose would get ill, too. If he could trade places with Hermione, he would—if it wasn’t for the fact that then it would be  _ her _ doing all the things and taking care of two people.

A little while later, he heard Hermione calling for him to get Rose’s bottle. He did so, then he used a cleaning spell on it and smeared it with sanitizer; then, he washed and sanitized his hands again and, after entering Rose’s bedroom, undressed and put on the change of clothes he kept there. Once the whole process was over, he lay down to try and get some sleep until Rose woke up… which she did, not an hour later.

After she was fed, burped and sound asleep again, Ron kissed her soft head (for about the fifteenth time that evening) and headed to his and Hermione’s room. She had a book open on her lap, but her eyes were fixed in a glassy, unfocused way on the telly, which was turned on. She looked up when Ron entered, though, startled. ‘Something wrong? Is she all right?’

‘She’s fine,’ Ron assured her, walking to his side of the bed and sitting down next to her, grabbing the remote to turn the TV off.

‘Then what are you doing here? I don’t need anything, Ron… you should be with her,’ Hermione said, her face and voice marked with anguish. ‘She needs you.’

‘You need me, too,’ Ron said, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and drawing her closer, then reclining both of them back against the pillows. ‘And you need to rest.’

‘But Ron,’ Hermione started to complain feebly, about how he shouldn’t spend so much time with her, about how he should be next to Rose, about how Hermione would manage.

‘Shh.’ He kissed her temple and rubbed her back. ‘I already took care of Rose and we have that Muggle monitor. Let me take care of you for a little while, okay?’

She hesitated for a moment before relaxing and dropping her head on his shoulder, hugging him close. ‘Okay. You’re a great dad.’

‘You think?’

‘No; I know.’

Pressing a tiny kiss at the base of his neck, she whispered, ‘And an amazing husband,’ before closing her eyes.


	12. Bewitching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Prompt:** Reading a book together [post-DH]
> 
> Dear readers: Thank you so much for following along and supporting this story with kudos and comments! This is the last drabble of the series, and the last Ron/Hermione fic I've written in a long time. That was in February-March of 2017. I don't want to say I will never write about them again because - you never know! I took a hiatus once and came back to it with the same enthusiasm. I still love them very much and I'll never ship them with anyone else. I just know that right now my feels and energy are elsewhere, which is why, for now, this is my last Ron/Hermione piece. And how fitting it's about their happily ever after? :)
> 
> (If you happen to also ship Han/Leia, all my new writing will be about them, so consider checking it out?)
> 
> Much love xx

If anyone had walked past the house that evening, they would have no doubt heard the stream of childish giggling coming through the open window.

It only lasted a moment, however, as the children inside clamped small hands over their mouths, stifling their hilarity as best as they were able to so that they could hear the exclusive performance playing out in front of them. The performers very graciously halted for a few seconds whenever these interruptions occurred, though, so their young audience had nothing to worry about.

‘ _Pay me the treasure of your past_ ,’ Ron said in a mystical voice, laying on his back on the floor.

‘Sir Luckless attempted to float across the stream on his shield, but it sank,’ Hermione recited; unlike her husband, she was sitting very properly on an armchair placed in the centre of their children’s bedroom. She looked up briefly to see Ron reenacting this and then, with a small smile, returned her gaze to the book on her lap. ‘The three witches pulled him from the water, then tried to leap the brook themselves…’

They continued like that: Hermione reading the tale in a perfectly enunciated voice; Ron reciting the dialogue of every character—giving each their own, unique voice—and comically acting the scenes. They read stories to the kids almost every night, but this they did only on Fridays—although Rose and Hugo would have had them do it every day, which would have quickly exhausted Hermione’s bookshelves along with both her and Ron’s stamina.

‘Good sir, you must bathe, as a reward for all your chivalry!’ Ron said, playing now the part of the beautiful witch Amata, and as Hermione recited the next part, he immediately assumed the role of Sir Luckless, the cowed but good-hearted knight who bathed in the Fountain of Fair Fortune. After playing his victorious emergence from the waters, Ron threw himself at Hermione’s feet. Although this scene had no dialogue, he improvised his own lines. Looking up to Hermione from his reverent position on the floor, he intoned, ‘O sweet Amata, you are the kindest, most beautiful woman I have ever beheld! I beg you to share your hand and heart with me, for the rest of our lives!’

It took a lot of discipline for Hermione not to double up with laughter, so she pressed her lips together, but Ron seemed to be waiting for a response, his hand held out in front of him.

‘O Sir Luckless, I realise now I have finally found a man worthy of both of them!’ she exclaimed, grasping his offered hand. Ron winked at her and bowed his head, and she giggled under her breath as both Rose and Hugo cheered and clapped.

She cleared her throat and read the closing paragraph, and smiled again at the gasp of surprise her children let out when she revealed there was no magic in the water of the Fountain after all.

Some sorts of magic, Hermione thought as she looked over at her family, required no wands at all.


End file.
